Intertwined
by Ryfee
Summary: Death separates and joins them. What kind of adversity awaits them upon their next reunion? What if he isn't the man he used to be? A tale of two entwined souls overcoming hardship, rejoicing in love, bonded for eternity. —IchiRuki. Post-ch422 :SUSPENDED:


Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine.  
Rated T for now, but will later become M for violence, sexual contents/lemons, adult themes. Post-chapter 422 and branches off from there.

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"_I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people:  
that each protects the solitude of the other__"_ – Rainer Maria Rilke.

—

**Intertwined**

_Once a bond is formed, it never disappears. So even if we forget everything,_  
_we'll be joined together again someday._

**Chapter I**: Vacant

**0.**

It all starts with a howl.

A piercing howl that rips their victory apart, cuts their rendezvous short. An agonized howl that reverberates in the shuddering air even after it receded, muffled by a loud thump and scattering dust.

The haunting echo has long died down, but it keeps ringing in her ears like a clarion call, a clandestine message passed between two entwined souls.

_Wait for me._

It all starts with a howl.

**1.**

Rukia washes the plate in her hands, lets the cool water slip between her fingers, and enjoys the transient tranquility tickling her senses. She was just done drying it up when Yuzu's chirpy voice booms in the kitchen with renewed vigor; Rukia whirls around to greet the younger girl, a small smile involuntarily skips across her face — the brunette's euphoria contagious.

"Rukia-chan! Do you want a pudding for desert?"

Leaning forward, Rukia shakes her head slightly, raven strands of hair whipping on her face. "No thanks, Yuzu. I'm already full!" She attempts a lighthearted laugh and cringes inwardly at its trembling edge. She's glad that Yuzu didn't seem to notice though, and with a somewhat wider and more convincing (she hopes) grin, she chuckles, "Your cooking is as awesome as always."

Yuzu beams up at her, pride and hilarity bursting and gilding her cheeks with shades of pink. "Thank you! But… you really don't want the pudding? Karin and I are going to eat the dessert in Onii-chan's room; you sure you don't wanna come with us?"

The invitation is too tempting to resist. It is an honor to be regarded as the inner circle of their family — sometimes she wonders if she is worthy of such trust and respect. Sometimes it fills her with so much pain that she wants to cry out in wordless agony and burden.

Yet all she can do is manage a small, forced smile — a polite decline betraying each of her heartbeat.

"I would love to, but I've got to go…" She racks her brain for excuses, and is thankful she has some. "I need to help Inoue with her cooking tonight." A shrug to feign blissful, businesslike nonchalance.

Yuzu's face drops in fading anticipation. "Ah, that's too bad. I just thought… it would be nice to eat together again in his room, you know? While waiting for him to… wake up."

An understanding smile makes its way onto Rukia's countenance as she pats the brunette's head. "Don't worry, Yuzu. He'll wake up soon. I'm sure he will." It almost sounds like she's trying to console herself instead of the younger girl.

The light on Yuzu's face is back, cerise lips stretching, and she bobs her head, enthusiastic again. "Okay then. I'll be going up now. Please drop by once you're done, Rukia-chan. I'm sure Onii-chan would want you to be by his side too!"

A sigh escapes Rukia's lips, her dark violet eyes softening. She mumbles something under her breath and Yuzu makes her leave. The brunette is soon out of the room, fading in a blur of browns and pinks, her elation leaving no marks in the claustrophobic kitchen that smothers Rukia with impromptu solitude.

A minute hasn't even passed when another figure intrudes upon the room; a big shadow pierces the streaming pool of light on the floor, soon followed by none other than Kurosaki Isshin.

Rukia takes a deep breath, garnering sparse bits of poise left inside her. "Ojii-sama."

"Rukia-chan." The words didn't come out as playful as they should. They hold odd seriousness she wishes hadn't been there. "Why don't you go up with Yuzu and Karin?"

A shake of head. "I need to go to Inoue's apartment…" She murmurs and looks away, hoping the dishes can rivet her attention and thwart the upcoming conversation — her wish plummets with the droplets in the kitchen sink, disappearing and tumbling onto the gaping maw of oblivion below.

Isshin expels a sigh. "You shouldn't be too hard on yourself, Rukia-chan."

She is tempted to interject, and is surprised she can't find the voice to do so.

The tips of his mouth turn up slightly. "Don't you worry too much about what Urahara said." He tries to lighten up the situation, but the shroud of despondency is too heavy and thick to lift.

"I know. It's just…" She bites her bottom lip, refraining herself from letting doubts solidify and surge out in a flood of words.

"Nah!" Isshin grins. "My son's a tough man, he'll wake up soon."

Rukia can only smile ruefully at that.

Here she is in a Gigai, trying to comfort the twins, yet ends up being soothed by their father. She rebukes herself for being so incompetent.

"Imagine his face when he wakes up and sees you all!"

A coma they never know when Ichigo will awaken from.

"Yeah," her tone is not reassuring at all. "I hope he'll wake up soon."

It is, if anything, a pale hope to clutch onto — a golden string stretched before her, too fragile and short to hold both him and her, keeping them away from the dark chasm that chases their shadows, ready to engulf them in an overwhelming miasma of misery.

Rukia would be lying if she said she didn't feel restless; the swaying, falling winter leaves outside almost in sync with her dying optimism.

"Please excuse me, Ojii-sama."

She fervently wishes she had the heart of spring, where perpetual cold and frosts and _dying everything_ would eventually burst in splashes of colors, vibrant blossom.

**2.**

The sun is glaringly bright in the winter sky. And she's perfectly comfortable where she is, hidden from the blazing star's scrutiny, poised on a branch of tree — her favorite spot where she can gaze at _his_ _window_ all day long, where minutes and hours fly by exceeding the rolling clouds overhead.

Sometimes she sits here for hours, time unbeknownst to her drifting thoughts and wishful thinking as she lets out a barely audible sigh, _this present_ shattered by remnants of the past — his window had been livelier then, occupied by his relentless shadow pacing around the room, sometimes with Kon bouncing restlessly, and most of the time she would be there as a shadow effortlessly blending in and out of his, almost as if meant to be.

She hates how vacant and lifeless it looks now. It seems more like a hole. Or a window to a soul that keeps shafts of light spill through, the rays the core will never wake up to, as if it's numb and too deep in slumber.

Today is supposed to be one of those routine meetings with her friends (she's already late but hasn't moved an inch); _another something_ Rukia has lost track of, stopped counting.

She doesn't exactly know if this will be their twentieth or hundredth meeting, doesn't even know how long it has passed since his haunting howl submerged in a spatter of dust, doesn't even know what day is today—

She just stops counting and summing up numbers altogether. Because they are irrelevant. Because every day has no names and meaning and _every single day is just waiting for him to wake up_.

But he never does. And she is still _waiting_.

And it hurts.

Every step she takes is marked by an inadvertent glance to her side, a ghostly figure and a nonexistent smile sending wistful tones into her chest, echoing eerily in her ribs before fading in a series of aching heartbeats. Every minute and hour, in which her heart sometimes almost jumps out of her chest in vigorous hopefulness, feels both long and short and _eternity_.

Sometimes her heartbeats accelerate too fast and fracture too early, leaving splinters too sharp to hold onto, leaving nothing to mend.

She instinctively draws a hand to her chest, where the heart is supposed to be, and closes her eyes. She can feel it. The static beating that seems to have grown and grown faster.

How much left of her heart is there? Not even half?

Maybe this is the costly risk they overlooked in putting their hearts so close: that when an important presence disappears, either momentarily or for a very long time or forever, your heart breaks and bleeds with his — _he dies and takes yours with him_.

But Rukia doesn't want to give up now. She wants to believe in their bonds and hearts. She wants to rediscover the melody of their heartbeats that has long ebbed away.

With a leap of staggering faith, the raven haired Shinigami abandons her personal spot and decides it's about time she shows up.

_Another step forward without you._

**3.**

The room doesn't smell of him. His usual scent doesn't linger in the air anymore — she has to wrinkle her nose and scrunch her eyebrows every time she tries to catch the aroma, and with each passing day, it disappears without a trace. It's just too clean and sterilized and… not him.

Sometimes the room spins around her in a whirlwind of hues, shadows of the past, their figures spiraling and chasing one after another, suffocating and making her dizzy. Everywhere she looks, there will be hazel eyes and lopsided grin and furrowed brows and him him _him._

And everywhere she looks, he is nowhere to be found.

Tethered to this pristine bed and white dreams, Kurosaki Ichigo sleeps ever so peacefully, his face too serene and his skin too pallid, too much like a corpse.

Ishida is first to notice her presence when Rukia slips through the window quietly; the Quincy's eyes leave the sewing he has been engrossed in and addresses her, "Ah, Kuchiki-san."

Both Inoue and Chad turn their heads around. The auburn haired girl smiles the instant she sees her, while Chad only gives a slight of nod.

Smiling despite herself, Rukia approaches the three of them, nostalgia suddenly inundating her with indelible memories of smiles and heartaches. Meeting these people through Ichigo is one of a lot of things she'll never regret.

"What are you sewing, Ishida?"

Her question catches the raven haired guy off guard. Ishida adjusts his glasses, makes an odd gurgle in his throat, shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and finally replies her question in a tone tinted with pride, "I'm making another… _dress_ for Yuzu-chan's Bostov. Pardon me, I mean _Kon_. I promised new dresses and clothes for her doll collection." He shrugs, straightens. "Someone needs to take care of her while Kurosaki sleeps for God knows how long. He never ceases to amaze me when it comes to being an inept brother."

Inoue scowls in disagreement. "That isn't very nice to hear, Ishida-kun! Kurosaki-kun has been through a lot…"

Attention fully grabbed by the sunset haired girl, it's Ishida's turn to frown. "But it's _true_. Kurosaki needs to take care of his sisters more—"

"Oh, but," Rukia tilts her head to the side, suddenly amused. "You just admitted that he's only inept being a _brother_. Not very so as a person, huh?"

His jaw drops open. Quickly garnering his composure, Ishida pushes his glasses further up. "It seems like there's a lot of misunderstanding going on here. Allow me to _rephrase_, then."

Shaking her head, a ghost of a smile lingers on Rukia's face for mere seconds. Then, she averts her gaze toward Ichigo again, wishing he was here with the four of them, eyes open and copious emotions apparent, diverging with each different expression — truly alive instead of only breathing breathing and _breathing_ _the nonexistent life_.

_Please come back soon, Ichigo_. _Wherever you are, please come back soon_.

Rukia props herself against the wall, watches his chest rise and fall steadily, far too fixated on the figure in the bed to notice the skies turning gray and the town falling somnolent precipitately.

_We—_

_I miss you._

**4.**

It finally happens during one of their usual meetings.

Inoue and Ishida have been absorbed in their talk of frilly dresses and lovely laces for Yuzu's dolls; Rukia is silent, enjoying the semblance of peace when it happens.

Chad, who is usually calm and collected, uncharacteristically jumps out of his chair and topples it backwards. If his action isn't enough to garner attention in the room, the name slipping from his mouth does: "Ichigo!"

The room is dead silent for some seconds. Noises soon pervade the transient quiet as each one of them hurries to Ichigo's side, their faces bright with elation.

"Kurosaki-kun!"

Rukia can only watch as Ichigo blinks slowly, dark eyelashes fluttering up and down, revealing those hazel orbs she's been longing to see. She can't hold her euphoria any longer — her mouth twitches upwards as he turns his head around, eyes still seemingly unfocused. He finally registers Ishida, Chad, and then Inoue in his vision. His smile, although faint and almost unnoticeable, is there.

Something inside her flutters.

"Took you long enough, Kurosaki." Ishida smirks; the delight in his eyes isn't hidden by his glasses this time.

Chad heaves a content sigh. "Ichigo."

Inoue is on the verge of tears. Stepping beside her, Rukia puts a hand on the auburn haired girl's shoulder to calm her down. And she opens her mouth, futilely trying to contain exhilaration swelling inside and plugging her chest, and lets her words come out in a happy remark; "Good morning, sleepy head."

But Ichigo isn't looking in her direction.

He hasn't even seemed to spare her a glance ever since he woke up. His eyes are on Ishida for a fleeting moment as he mutters something under his breath.

Something inside her stops. And sinks.

Can't he… can't he—

"Ku-Kurosaki-kun," Inoue, wiping her tears of joy away, looks from him to her, wary and flustered. "Kuchiki-san is… here, you know." She almost whispers, eyes rolling back and forth between them. "It isn't so nice to ignore her and pretend you don't—" The smile on her face freezes as realization dawns upon her. Her hand hovers in the air. "…see her?"

The room falls silent again. This time void of joviality. Just as silent and deadly as a grave.

Rukia instinctively takes a step backwards. Ishida jerks his head up. "K-Kuchiki-san! Wait," the dark haired man leans forward, his voice livid. "You bastard, this isn't time to play pranks on us, you know!"

Ichigo stares up at him. Blankly. And then he casts his gaze around the room. A deep frown makes its way onto his visage. His question sounds like a catastrophe in her ears; "Rukia is here?"

As if by unspoken agreement, Ishida, Inoue and Chad twist their heads around to lock her figure. There is shock and disbelief on their expressions, but most conspicuous being pity.

Rukia's hand slithers around the hilt of her Zanpakutou, trembling and cold. Inoue, still appalled and confounded, squeaks in a tiny, quivering voice; "K-Kuchiki-san…"

Where is air when she desperately needs it?

"Kuchiki-san!"

She didn't even realize she was walking and walking backwards when Ichigo's voice, hoarse and unused, cracks and hinders her progress.

"_Rukia_!"

Why? Why did he call her?

He can't see her, so what's the point of calling a ghost?

She inhales. Exhales. Inhales. Exhales.

"Rukia. Are you… there?"

A 'yes' is not even an answer anymore.

She finally moves toward the bed again, and his face eclipses and rises into her vision like a ghastly moon overtaking the night, lethal and whiter than the sheet his head is cradled in. Hazel eyes dart around the ceiling and walls, roaming and wandering wild but never catching her figure.

"Rukia."

Diluted pearls surface above dark violet seas, glimmering as she lifts a hand to her chest. She knows he can't hear her, but that doesn't stop her from mouthing his name; "Ichigo." It tastes both sweet and bitter in her mouth, unspoken longing entangling them in noxious vines.

The other three just stand there, silent, like statues in the grave watching life and death part and reunite. And the momentum of heartbeats and heartaches intensifies, continuing for what seems like eternity.

Until Ichigo's eyes dilate and his chest rises, fingers around his neck.

Chad, Ishida and Inoue scream in unison.

"Ichigo!"

"Kurosaki!"

"Kurosaki-kun!"

Pain smothers him.

He screams.

Something keeps drumming in her ears, echoing in her head over and over, ringing portentously.

Rukia leans closer, panicked.

"_Ichigo_!"

He answers her call with a howl.

A deafening howl that confiscates her heart and throws it onto the floor.

_Thud_.

Noises. Noises and more noises. They keep buzzing and buzzing and disturbing her mind, pesky insects clouding coherency—

_Thud_.

Then, she realizes it's the sound of her heartbeats. Her heart—

_Their_ heart shattering.

—

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**a/n**: As you can see, this is post-chapter 422 after Ichigo loses his consciousness. The plot has been bugging me, and since I like it, I've decided to go along with this. This story will also revolve around the (in)famous theme "Destiny" and "Rotator". And the words below the title are Ichigo's from Fade To Black.

A bit depressing intro, I guess, but Rukia's waiting means angst, so.  
Update should come soon after I post an IchiRuki one-shot (again). And what on earth is happening to Ichigo? Guessing is fun, and reviews would be greatly appreciated! It's a bit disheartening to see a lot of people adding this to alerts/favs but none said a thing. Please tell me what you think?

_— Ryfee_


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